


The Middanġeard Games

by v_darkstar



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Hunger Games, Character Death, M/M, Omega!Bilbo, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-27 14:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_darkstar/pseuds/v_darkstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hobbit/The Hunger Games fusion where the Annual Games are held but with a twist. Instead of glory and an expensive prize, the winning competitor gets claim over a chosen Omega, and all participants fighting for that honour are Alphas. </p><p>This year is the 67th Middanġeard Games and Bilbo Baggins is the Omega that has been selected to be in the Games alongside twenty two Alphas, all of which are fighting to get him.</p><p>(Filled for the kink meme)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: I read a fic months ago (think it was Erik/Charles?) and it played with the idea that the Hunger Game tributes were Alphas and their prize was a chosen Omega that would be set into the Games with them, where it'd either be marked and then protected by an Alpha until the designated time expired (eg, protect the Omega successfully for two days and you get to keep it) or the last man standing got claim over it. The Omega was dressed completely in white (in order to differentiate from the Alphas) and its survival was completely guaranteed as no Alpha would dare harm a precious Omega.
> 
> I'd love for a fic where Bilbo is the chosen Omega and the Alphas (Thorin's company? The Elves? Smaug? Azog? Goblins?) go into the Hunger Games thinking it'll be an honor and easy to claim the innocent little Hobbit and are sorely surprised to find that Bilbo doesn't want an Alpha or 'protection', he just wants to get home safely.
> 
> Whoever Bilbo ends up with (and if he let's himself become bonded to person b) is up to the filler.
> 
>  
> 
> \-- I found the amazing Erik/Charles fic mentioned in the prompt and it's called 'Into the Fray' by Miss_Aphelion. It's quite extraordinary and I definitely recommend it! But while my fic is based off some lovely ideas she came up with, the story and characters will be completely different so don't worry about copyright or story theft, I'd never do that to her.

quick a/n! 

now, before we get into the thick of this verse and the plot, i'd like to point out a few things that are different to either and/or both The Hunger Games and The Hobbit.

1) the general premise of the original Hunger Games is still in place except for the change of names/titles and bending of the rules to suit the Alpha/Beta/Omega themes. For example, instead of 'The Capitol' we have 'The Populace' because I don't think there is a completely single part of Middle Earth that holds more power over the rest, so 'The Populace' is more like a collection of high lords and the powerful that want to keep the stigmas and restrictions of past times/to prevent losing their rule.

2) as for the name of the 'Hunger Games', i've changed it to the Middanġeard Games (which is an alternative to 'Middle Earth' from the Old English.)

3) because the times are more modern than the ones of LOTR and The Hobbit, I've alterted the age so that the present day lifespan is expected for every race and edited height charts a bit. here are the average heights for each race (which are subject to change depending on the characters): \- Hobbits, 165cm \- Dwarves, 170cm \- Goblins, 172cm \- Men, 178cm \- Elves, 190cm \- Orcs (Azog, Bolg), 200cm \- Trolls, 210cm

4) even though the prominent relationship is Thorin/Bilbo, remember that this is a contest to state claim on Bilbo and that there will be numerous counts of one-sided intentions, so ye be warned. rating will indefinitely go up as scenes get darker.

and other things may pop up as the story goes forward but all shall be revealed by the end, and i plan on this being of an reasonable length so we should be going for awhile with parts posted as they're done. feel free to ask any questions, i hope you enjoy the short intro below! :3

 

 **The Middanġeard Games.**

 

Instead of the horrifying thoughts ( _death, capture, torture_ ) that he would have thought to plague his mind, all he could truly think of was the fresh, green plains of his homeland. When he closed his eyes he could smell the sweet dew early in the mornings, and he could almost hear the chirping of those same two birds that lived outside his bedroom window. The Shire -- or Region 6 as The Populace preferred to refer to it as -- was one of the smallest areas in Middle Earth, more like a sectioned area of sparse forest-land that was mostly used for Agriculture, and its inhabitants were definitely not the type to be aggressive. No, the Hobbits of the Shire preferred to keep to themselves and spend their time in their fields or in their markets, and they definitely did not want to get into any form of conflict that may result in either party becoming injured. 

Sadly, as much as they wished that they could be left well alone, The Populace would never let them live in complete peace. Each fortnight a team of four labourers would travel to the borders of the Shire to deliver the mandatory amount of vegetables and fruit, and in return they were 'gifted' with items from the Collectors; sometimes seeds for new and exotic crops, sometimes foreign meat they'd never tasted before, and sometimes new materials for garbs and clothing. And no one ever talked about that one time they'd been unable to give all the requested products on the list to the Collectors, or about the three bodies that'd been returned dragging and shackled onto a chain that was branded into and underneath the skin of the final Hobbit's neck and wrists. 

Every year it was the same, no matter how much they offered or proposed, a single 18 year old Hobbit was taken to compete in the annual Middanġeard Games. Well, compete wasn't the word per say. Compete was the term that the Alphas were affiliated with. The proper word would be something similar to 'bait' or 'prey'. Yes, the chosen Hobbit would also have to be a prized Omega and also the reward for the winning Alpha. 

Once upon a time the winner would receive a cash prize and living quarters in the most high scale house they'd want but that was long before The Populace discovered that the Shire was not full of betas and only betas but also Omegas, which from then on came to be known as a more cherished and desired prize for the 'worthy' and luckily deemed Alpha than any amount of money could ever be. 

But yes, all he could see and feel was the hot sun and laughter around him as his platform raised off the ground and up the sole shoot above him. It didn't matter that out of all the chances in the world, his had been the one name drawn out of the box, and it didn't matter that he'd possibly never see his friends or family again. He didn't even think about the fact that some complete stranger would be claiming and taking him against his will. 

He thought of _home_ as the stage he was on finished moving, and yet the second he opened his eyes he found that lush plants shocked into fiery pits and everything having some semblance to calm faded from view. 

The air felt thick in his throat and the sky seemed to burn his skin in the chosen plainfield of the Middanġeard Games. 

He shuddered as he felt every gaze rest upon his tightly clad white frame from each of the twenty two tributes. The scent of Alpha was surrounding and suffocating him, making his instincts scream to getawaygetaway from the risk of not bonding with his _one and only_. From the slim feminine frame of a female Elf, to the heavily muscled frame of a Troll, to the sturdyness of a Dwarf, and to the cunning of a human man, a variety of species were all _out for him_. And as defenseless as some of them may look, he still knew that each of the array of competitors were deadly in their own way. 

His hands clenched by his sides and his toes flexed against the cool plastic under his soles. 

The starting shot went off and as he saw the blur of at least more than ten people running into his direction, Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins, chosen prize of the 67th Middanġeard Games, and 18 year old Omega, held no delay and promptly sprinted to the left of him, feet pounding and heart seizing as he ran not away in the direction they were coming to, but to the closest looking cover. As they moved East, he darted South. Nevermind the slowly building bile in his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

just a short note this time. in this verse the Omega has to be at the age of 18 precisely but the Alphas can range anywhere from 18 - 40 to encourage variety and different levels of skill. this part is longer than the last and after this one the chapters will get even longer, as that's when The Middanġeard Games officially start and most of the introductory info will already have been covered. i hope you enjoy this part! a glimpse into Thorin's head and the reveal of some of the other participants.

 

;

 

A deep sigh left Thorin as Dáin shoved him forward with a large thump against his back. When one was chosen to compete in the Games was it really necessary to try impress The Populace and the viewers behind their screens at home? Wasn't the purpose to prove their appeal and skills to the Omega, not to the general audience? 

After leaving Erebor -- Region 3 -- in the hands of the Collectors, they were the thoughts that plagued him most. Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, definitely did not categorize himself in the same league as some of the other 22 Alphas. Firstly, the Goblin and the Troll from Region 5 were less than repulsive; the former wouldn't stop picking at boils upon its skin and the latter seemed determined to find the perfect ingredient to bathe the Omega in if it won. The two men from Laketown -- Region 2 -- seemed civil enough but they knew nothing of honour or tradition, and the dark haired one (Bard was it?) had quickly tried to make some influence over the two Elves from Region 1 which was less than savoury in Thorin's approval. 

Ever since the 53th Middanġeard Games, the Dwarves of Erebor no longer had any affiliation with any Elf from any family or household, they were repulsed and infuriated with the will of the other beings. 

For you see, the 53th Middanġeard Games were not particularly spectacular for the majority of it in any sense; within two hours of the contest, a wise, strong Dwarf had successfully staked claim on the young female Omega and bonded that same night. This wasn't anything unusual per say, but even the Alpha knew that he couldn't keep his Omega safe by himself and kill the other Alphas at the same time, and that's when an alliance was formed with the supposedly kindest contestant out of the participants. The bonded Dwarf made a deal to hand over his family's prized treasure -- The Arkenstone -- once the Games were over if the young, kind Elf would keep his Omega safe while he knocked off the rest of the opposition. 

Without any reluctance at all, the Elf accepted and built a small fort behind a rise of stones while the Dwarf set off further into the Arena. This particular Dwarf was one of the bravest and smartest of his kin and killed everyone off with ease, but these particular skills did not come in as helpful when he returned to his Omega and the kind Elf because the kind Elf was not kind at all, he was cunning instead. The minute the Dwarf returned to collect his beloved lass, the Elf snuck up behind him and slaughtered him in cold blood, and when the corpse dropped to the floor, the Elf slinked up to the bonded Omega and took her in front of all the cameras. This was an extremely shameful act to do in the eyes of the viewers because once an Omega bonds with another, they can no longer bond with anyone else, and if their Alpha dies then for any time over the duration of a week they will be unable to feel anything but excruciating pain throughout every limb and under all their flesh, their very blood would boil to almost the brink of death in order to flush the toxins and hormones that came with a bond. 

And for another Alpha to force themselves upon such a defenseless Omega in that state was a crime normally punished by death. 

But unfortunately, as the victor of The Middanġeard Games, the Elf suffered no threat and returned to his Region with the Omega as soon as the tournament was finished. 

As a testament to the fallen Dwarf, his family donated The Arkenstone to the highest of lords in Erebor and a shrine was completed around the precious jewl to show how taken they were with Dwarven loyalty and how repelled they were with such treacherous Elves. 

If Thorin wasn't so infuriated with the will of Elves then he may have thought about how confusing The Populace was with the way they allowed any number of Alphas to take the Omega against its will in The Middanġeard Games but the second the Omega was bonded they deemed it to become taboo. As if rape was perfectly fine as long as the victim was not in a committed relationship.

Regardless of the many conflicts and issues within The Populace's rules, Thorin already knew he despised the two fair headed Elves from Region 1, Thranduil and Galadriel, and he only made an effort to remember their names because he wanted to know which two bodies he'd be disposing of at top priority. 

He refused to link himself with either of the creatures from Mordor -- Region 8 -- as the Alphas that came from that place were always the cruelest of the lot (maybe excluding Elves in Thorin's view). This year a scaled shapeshifter had been chosen -- a male who called himself Smaug -- and a rumoured Dark Sorcerer who The Populace had referred to as The Necromancer. Originally the Regions had disputed the unfair advantages that the monsters of Mordor had over the more human races but the pride of Alphas successfully maimed that debate when a young, blonde woman had dispatched the highest ranking creature of Mordor known to anyone -- A Witch-king that hailed from Region 8's outskirts of Angmar -- with a slice of her sword into its chest. 

Dáin II Ironfoot was his fellow Dwarf chosen from Erebor, and a close friend of his father's and his family. A respectable warrior that Thorin had no trouble in trusting. 

This year was particularly surprising in the fact that two Alpha Hobbits had been volunteered into the Games as well. The odds of an Alpha being produced in The Shire was one out of a thousand, so to have two was something even he took note of, especially considering that Smeagol and Gollum were twins as well. 

The two Alpha orcs were yet to be chosen as Region 9's draw was set out for the overmorrow and Thorin was not looking forward to that type of filth being taken to sleep in the some building as he had to stay in. 

After the orcs were selected then all 22 Alphas would be ready to participate in the training and rating levels The Populace conducted. That would take another week and then they'd all be set off into The Middanġeard Games for the prized Omega.

Thorin honestly didn't know whether to smile or grimace at the flashing cameras in his face; being chosen was an honour in itself but the chances that the Omega could turn out to be a spoiled brat were as high as the odds of him having to kill his own kin to survive, and that made his slowly forming grin sink into a heavy frown.

He'd enjoy slaughtering those intolerable Elves, the cursed _things_ from Mordor and the Goblin and Troll scum, but if it ended up with him and Dáin surviving to the end then he didn't know if he could drive the blade of a knife into the other's heart all for an Omega that was as good as a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ten points to the first person who correctly guesses the two Alpha orcs :3


	3. Chapter 3

I based the Arena off of one of the locations in Final Fantasy XIII called the Sunleth Waterscape. When playing the game I kept stopping just to turn and look at the pretty flowers and grasslands of it. Here are two reference pictures ([Ash](http://images.wikia.com/finalfantasy/images/3/3b/Sunleth_waterscape_concept1.png) and [Krul](http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120229162004/finalfantasy2/de/images/0/00/Auenwald_von_Sunleth.jpg)) to help you imagine the playing field, although the Arena is only inspired by the Sunleth Waterscape so it will not be 100% the same as the game's version. I will keep the overall forest / cool feel to it but there will be monsters placed by the Populace in later chapters and you know that Arenas are never as simple as they first appear.  
  
Just before we start: I'd like to let you know that this chapter / part is not actually technically finished yet but I posted this section to the kink meme earlier and I think it's only fair that you guys here at ao3 get it as well. This means that the identity of the two Orcs will be revealed in the next chapter / part instead of this one, which I'll post for you once it's done some time tomorrow, although most of you guessed Azog correctly, so that's five points to all your Hogwarts houses! 

If you want to follow this story on the Hobbit kink meme then here is the link to the thread: [this link right here](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3651.html?thread=7711555#t7711555).  I generally update there first / quicker but it's only by a few hours or, at most, a day so it's up to you. Updates will continue to happen here either way.

 

 

;

 

 

The center of the Arena, at first glance, did not appear to hold anything overly threatening or dangerous. Compared to the previous year of dry terrain and magma pits -- which were safe guarded so that the chip beneath the Omega's skin would invoke a barrier above any close hollows if it were to pass any of the possibly fatal areas -- this one could almost be considered pleasant or tropical.   
  
  
The previous 66th Middanġeard Games featured one of the most unique skylines in history; instead of the typical pale sky and dark nights, the heavens above the competitors were a brazen crimson red that never changed shades regardless of the time of day, always lighting everything up with a eerie golden glow. It was evident within the first few days that the lack of definite time had disorientated the tributes and some fell to fatigue and sleep deprivation in order to ensure they were not preyed up upon during the daylight constant.   
  
  
This year's main plain stretched out in a wide, even circle that linked off into a dozen smaller pathways. The dominant circle was of about 100 yards in size and on a raised level of land; if one was to not take the few tracks that bridged off it then they'd suffer a fall of over seven storeys into the dark, unseeable base ground. The circle was covered with soft forest green grass that fanned off in ankle high clusters throughout it's entirety, and at the borders of the plain, they raised up in thick bunches with hues of carmine and amber fading out from the green of the roots. Each blade seemed damp with dew and the visible dirt beneath it was flattened out into a hard, smooth mudslide.   
  
  
The pathways were each about 7 metres wide and curved upwards and downwards in completely different directions. Here the grass thinned out until the majority of the space was the same dark marl beneath the plain's blades and filled out into a natural pavement. On either side of this hard mud was a long collection of ferns the same colour as the grass of the central plain the width of a man's shoulder to shoulder frame.   
  
  
If one were to take their gaze off the ground, they'd notice the towering trees first. These trees had trunks as tall as the average castle and thick leaves that blocked areas of the Arena off completely from light, the sun in the evening sky instead casting it's gaze onto the initial trails where nothing obstructed it's direction. These trees shared the same colour from root to tree top, a fair cerulean blue giving the illusion of further distance from it's actual location. The closest trees to the pathways were about seven metres away and the ones that were visible at a hefty amount away from those were blanketed in a thin sheen of white mist.   
  
  
The walkways all spanned out a length that would take about five minutes of full speed running to reach the ends, all of which were swallowed by thick bush and forest plants.  
  
  
The sound of a nearby waterfall would have made the entire Arena seem almost peaceful, but sprinting across the cold plain with his heart thump-thumping in his ears blocked out any pretenses of organic beauty and safety.

 

Bilbo almost tripped over a stray back-pack as he neared the group of weapons and survival kits. Without any thought, he quickly snatched it up and continued darting towards the nearest pathway, the echoes of yells and heavy footfalls behind him.   
  
  
Clutching the camouflage print bag to his chest, he chanced a small glance behind him and stumbled slightly when he saw a man with mostly canine features and fur fast on his heels. The only thing that struck Bilbo as him being part man was the way it alternated from running on only it's hind legs to all fours when it snarled at Bilbo. The rest of it was covered in a thick coat of midnight black fur and had bright, electric blue eyes.   
  
  
He yelped as it snapped at his ankles, trying to will his feet to carry him the few metres further into the forestland and away from the open view of the other participants.   
  
  
He felt more than heard the deep growl against his bare calves and couldn't help the stumble that lead to him falling forward when the animal shoved his legs with it's head forcefully.   
  
  
Bilbo turned over quickly on the ground and swung his back-pack as hard as he could into the large jaws of the creature. The canine's balance troubled for a second before those sinister eyes locked onto his petrified ones once again. Bilbo's own pair darted around at his surroundings, searching for some platform or ledge to jump on that would not lead to him falling into the foreboding pits or onto one of the Populace's barriers that would automatically transport him back to his starting platform.  
  
  
He was bracing himself for another swing at the creature's face when a bright blur of white appeared before him and jumped onto the back of the crouching canine.   
  
  
The bright white belonged to the colour of the new figure's long hair, and it was actually a light shade of gold that gave the illusion of white in the light. But that was not all, the stark contrast of the person's hair with the dark clothing didn't draw too much attention from Bilbo that he did not notice the long knife in one clutched hand as it stabbed down sharply into the flesh around the wolfish man's upper back. The way the knife dove into the skin and fur of the body and sliced down the track of his spine reminded Bilbo of the way his aunt would first sink her knife into a orange's outer layer and then peel it off. The man howled sharply into the air, only stopping when the golden figure drove the blade into his skull and took all his breath away from his body.  
  
  
The corpse dropped to the ground where a thick pool of maroon blood pooled around it.   
  
  
 _"Draugluin"_  A deep, female voice cursed out, and then the fair headed figure's head snapped up to meet his gaping expression. The woman, no, Elf slowly stood to her full, impressive height and regarded him with a small tilt to her head and inquisitive squint of her pale irises. She was startlingly beautiful, as all Elves were, with sharp features and a gaze that betrayed the knowledge and experience that was hidden behind her ethereal image, "You best be running along, Halfling. I will come for you later."  
  
  
Bilbo forced himself to his feet and ran off without a word. Almost hyperventilating at the confrontation of death before him.   
  
  
Even as he left the Elf, he caught a glimpse of the other Alphas and the sight repulsed him; he easily spotted three mangled, grotesque bodies with lifeless eyes. He thought that the closest one to him and the Elf had picked up some strangely designed gloves before her death and then almost vomited when he noticed that they weren't gloves at all, but were actually  _her fingers_  bent and cracked out of their sockets until it broke the skin and coated her hands with the same dark liquid that was oozing out of her sliced throat.   
  
  
The only lifeline he had was the now damp bag in his hands and he feared that his grip would rip one of the straps if his hands didn't start to cooperate with his wishes.   
  
  
This place may have been regarded as exotic by some of the viewers at home, but as Bilbo's gaze settled on a poorly disguised camera, all he wanted to see was the endless hillsides of his home.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
a/n: The character Draugluin is actually the first ever werewolf to be created / bred by Morgoth and he appears in The Silmarillion for those who haven't read it. And don't worry, he was an evil little bugger in the book; I'm not murdering the nice characters just yet!


	4. Chapter 4

I'm so sorry for the long wait, University just resumed so that's been taking a large chunk of my previous time away. It's such a shame that the break period doesn't last for months instead of weeks. And I've been in a rather bad mood recently because of some shitty company that screwed up one of my most looked forward to events of this year; I was initially flying over to Sydney for a music festival this month and at the last minute they've decided to announce that it's been cancelled so that was a waste of $700 on tickets and accommodation. Yeah, ugh. At least I'm going to Luna Park this weekend. This chapter length isn't anything special, really, but that's because this is the part left off from last chapter. The next update should come out a lot quicker than this one and its length should be most definitely longer.

 

Sliding down the rock crevice he had come across seconds ago was not a particularly enjoyable experience. The pathway had lead off into a hard road that thinned out until the tracks disappeared completely from Bilbo’s view, and when it did the trees appeared closer and the vegetation thickened out. It would have been easy to just jump into one of the large bushes but he knew it would not be a safe place for long; the first few who came across this area would probably run on by without noticing anything amiss, but if anyone dare stay in the vicinity for too long then not only would he risk the possibility of moving and exposing himself but also the fact that the dark, heady aroma that he could basically taste from the Alphas before were sure to trigger his own pheromones as soon as they approached regardless of if he willed it to or not.

 

Instead of that chance, he opted to keep running until the high rise of the area dipped down and the ground ledges ran further out, the land started to fill the shape of a somehow foreign rain forest, and the edges of the ground he stood on changed from the sharp cliff edge that could spell possible death to a rough terrain hill that couldbe taken to get to the next grassland if one was desperate. He figured there must be a less threatening drop somewhere further down the line, but he couldn’t waste the time to keep looking out in the open; he crouched down and braced his feet before promptly skidding down the mound.

 

From above the drop had appeared shorter and the dirt almost smooth, when in reality, he realised as he fell down with it, that the ground was laden with jagged gravel and hard against his fingers clutching onto the ascent. As he tumbled to the last of the terrain, his breath came out as a sharp hiss that testified to the ache that seemed to resonate through his entire body.

 

Bringing his body off the ground, he wasn’t surprised to see the front of his previously pristine white clothes, that the workers at the Populace had dressed him in, dusted with a thin layer of soil that made the white seem more like a murky ashen colour.

 

Thick green roots clung around his ankles and he hastily pulled to get them off. They detangled and tore, leaving slimy ooze not unlike mire that coated his skin with a glossy sludge that reminded him of the colour of his mother’s asparagus. He gagged at the stench, forcing the urge to upheave all the gourmet foods he had been fed earlier from rising, and reluctantly brushed the glossy liquid off him, refraining from bringing the hands up near his face, afraid he’d faint.

 

_“Shar-”_ A deep voice yelled out. Bilbo startled and pressed himself as close as possible behind the ledge off-hanging as he could. The muttering of conversation could be heard above him and he thanked the lords that he’d taken the decision to move off the main track. “The _par_ has been around here, I can smell its _lobûrz_ allure and I’m not even near it yet.”

 

“The bearer will surely be a grand prise for you, _Azog-hai._ ” Another voice replied; this one a little more timid but not by much, “It will be the perfect _kurv_ for you.”

 

The sound of one of them shrieking resounded down the edge, a choking noise that sounded vile to Bilbo’s ears. “It is not wise of you to be calling my mate a whore, _Snaga_. You may be in this with me, but do not forget your rank. At home you’re nothing but a feces ridden swine, and you’ll never be worthy enough for that Omega.”

 

The horrible gagging cut off with a deep inhale of air. Moments later the pair of heavy footsteps treaded away from Bilbo’s current perch. The last thing he heard from them was the first one say “ _Mirdautas vras_ ,” And then nothing. The shudder that racked his frame did nothing but douse the ever lingering pit of dread in his stomach. 

 

Okay, over abuse of the Black Speech much? Aha, the reason for that is that I recently found my old Black Speech dictionary from the good old LOTR times back when I was barely a teenager so I was rather giddy to throw some in of them, even if some may be a bit out of place. Feel free to correct me, lovies. I never learnt the correct grammar/ordering of it so I'm basically going off what little I just found online regarding positioning of the phrases. 

Keep Quiet - _Shar-_  
Vessel - _Par_  
Feminine ("womanly") - _Lobûrz_  
Great, superiour - _-Hai_  
Whore - _Kurv_  
It is a good day to kill - _Mirdautas vras_

And congrats to the lovely user here who guessed Snaga correct on her second shot/with a small clue from me :3


End file.
